Within
by Gomes
Summary: G/B “Sometimes, the person you trust the least proves to be your destined ally.” **CHAPTER FOUR**
1. Chapter 1

Title: Within (1/2)  
Author: Gomes  
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
Pairing: Giles/Buffy  
Rating: NC17  
Warnings: Torture, violence, strong sexual themes  
Tags: AU Adventure  
Spoilers: General knowledge  
Summary: "Sometimes, the person you trust the least proves to be your destined ally."  
Disclaimer: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.  
Notes: Written for the "_**summer_of_giles**_" event, .

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* * *

_

_A beat._

_A breath._

_Air crystallized before her, wisps of wind exhaling icicles from parted lips. From lips that held a familiarity that burned her memory. Her eyes strained to see, to remember but soft words spoken deterred her concentration._

_Shook her mind and paralyzed her body. _

_Stole her heart. _

_A naked back rested in her peripheral vision. When she turned, the darkness engulfed the body with no face, stealing sight until she shied her gaze away. She glanced at the strong muscles from the corner of her eye, seeing a hand push past, elasticizing the skin. A face followed, almost wanting to escape through the epidermal. Wanting to reach out from within. _

_A large talon, a jagged claw tore through, from the inside out, and blood trickled down in a meticulous path, burning the skin, layers upon layers. _

_Blood drops sizzled on the floor as the man turned, only his mouth in full view. "Blood is freedom."_

* * *

She stepped into the library, knowing in her gut that he would be there. He always came early in case there was patrolling discussions from the previous night, or research to be done.

There was _always_ research to be done, and part of her felt a little guilty for burdening him with her dreams.

Nightmares.

Most often than not they were prophetic, and she wanted to discuss them with him as soon as possible, if anything to put her mind at ease that he wasn't in any kind of danger. That perhaps her sharing her knowledge would protect him somehow, especially concerning the last flash she had, in the shower. When she had come to, the water had been running cold and the memories of the second semi-dream still rested heavily on her conscience. The image of her Watcher bound and beaten, frightened her. But it was the droplets of blood, that sizzled upon the floor, that shook her to the core.

She peaked through the window in his office, watching his profile as he began to dress. She held her breath as she watched him move. Her eyes took in the flex of each muscle in his abdomen and arms as he shook out his dress shirt and eyed it, searching for any wrinkles. Though his body wasn't sculpted like Angel's, it was well-defined. Having trained with her everyday definitely kept him in good health, she mused, as she spied the gentle dusting of tawny hair on his chest.

Rolling her eyes affectionately, she moved to chastise him for not going home when he turned abruptly, facing away from her.

Her eyes caught a quick glimpse of a tattoo on his back before he shrugged his crisp white shirt on, the material sliding over the circular image inked on his left shoulder blade, hiding it from her view.

She knitted her brows together as she approached his office, tossing her books and bag on the counter along the way. She leaned against the door frame, arms folded across her chest as she continued to stare as he buttoned up his chocolate-brown vest. She refused to let herself be persuaded by how the deep brown brought out the green in his eyes. Instead, she thrust her chin forward, nodding towards him.

"When did you get the new tatt?"

Giles pivoted, hands tying his tie with expert ease. "Oh, hullo Buffy. I uh, I didn't hear you come in." He folded his suit jacket across his arm, as he nodded towards the counter. "Putting on a fresh pot," he smiled almost shyly, directing her towards the steeping tea.

She nodded, sitting atop the counter, legs swinging idly. "So, the tatt! Spill!"

"You're here early this morning," he spoke, not looking at her as he prepared the tea. "Is-is everything well?"

"Oh! That reminds me of this dream I have to tell you about - and before I forget, yes you've changed the subject and _no_ I haven't been distracted. After we get the oogie-boogie lo-down on my dream, we're talking about that tattoo, mister!"

He threw her a long-suffering look before motioning her to continue, as he poured two cups of tea. "Enlighten me as to what pea is under your mattress, Princess."

"It was really weird, Giles," she began, jumping down from the counter and walking over to the table, where he now sat. She took a seat beside him, wrapping her hands around the mug and stealing its comfort. "I was in this room and it was really cold. I don't know, just a plain ol' darkened room. And there was this guy. Naked, I think. And he was like, tied up or something. And had been tortured. And then, I saw this…I don't know, this hand coming out of his skin. From his back, you know? Like, all stretchy and wanting to tear through. And then it did! This claw thing tore through and blood fell and it was boiling."

She glanced up, eyes crinkled with worry. "Give it to me straight, doc. How messed up am I?"

He opened his mouth to speak, lips shaping words but no sound was released. He finally sighed, eyes resting on the table as he reviewed her words. "Um, a-anything else out of the ordinary? Is this the first dream, then?"

"First dream? Of this sorts? Yeah." She took a tentative sip of the tea, sucking on her tongue as the hot liquid burned as expected. "Oh! I uh…I lost time."

"Pardon? You…misplaced your watch?" He chuckled softly at his own joke, before sobering up upon seeing her un-amused expression.

"No, you silly Watcher. I…got this flash. I was awake, but I could see pictures. Almost like a continuation of the dream. Except…except you were in it." She dared to glance up, worry once again etched on her face.

He looked at her with surprise. "H-how do you know it was a continuation, Buffy? I mean, you yourself said you were awake, so perhaps it was a memory-triggered recollection of the manifestation."

"No Giles. It was definitely…an awake dream. And it was a continuation because…well your blood had that same sizzling thing going on. Totally wigged me out! I came to in the shower." She took a sip of the tea, staring at the liquid in contemplation.

Giles studied her expression, seeing that she was definitely affected by it. He grew concerned, reaching over and placing a hand on her shoulder, trying to promise comfort. "I'll do some research while you're in class. Perhaps after, instead of training, we can focus on finding out any symbolic meaning of the blood."

"And the claw ripping through the skin. Oh," she exclaimed loudly, "and and and a face. I saw this face like, trying to stretch out from the skin too. As if there was this person trapped inside the other person." She shook her head, eyes glazed as she stared unseeing. "No…not a person. It didn't look like a, a person." She finally looked up to see her Watcher staring straight ahead, almost as if he was distracted. But she knew him, knew that this was his understanding face. This was where he put all of his knowledge together and churned an answer.

"So you know it," she broke his concentration.

"Hmm?"

She noted that there was a certain fear in his eyes. A very faded twinkle of apprehension sat in his now worried greens. "You know the answer. You know what my dreams mean. And it's bad."

He let out a breathy chuckle, finishing his tea in a large gulp. "Truly, I wish the answer could come upon a simple reflection, but I assure you my talents at deciphering cryptic dreams aren't as potent as they seem."

"But you had that far away look on your face. That _I'm so good because I solve things faster than you_ look. And then it turned into a worried and scared look."

He swallowed hard, wondering for a brief moment if his expressions were that legible. "Uh…I," he frowned into his empty cup. "I don't like seeing you upset, Buffy." He wondered if she would buy his excuse as easily as he hoped she would. Granted, it wasn't a lie. His heart ached whenever she was hurt. His statement was the truth, he mused to himself. Just not the truth for _this_ situation.

"You know what would make me un-upset, Giles?"

"Hmm?"

"You showing me your tattoo! I think that's so cool! Can I get one?"

"I hate to be the bearer of um, un-hip news, Buffy, but there is no tattoo to speak. I only have the one, located on my upper arm." He touched the area of which he spoke, and for a brief moment, memories he fought hard to bury, surfaced. "Right then, shall we perhaps start with some research?"

"Gi-les!"

He cringed not looking at her, knowing full-well that she was pouting. Knowing full-well that he had much difficulty resisting. "Buffy, I can assure you that I have no other tattoo."

"But I saw it!"

"Surely you are mistaken. Perhaps it was a shadow or a piece of lint," he continued, trying to reason with her. He wondered why she was so adamant about it, and why she hadn't been convinced. He frowned, looking almost through her as he tried to come up with reasons for his failure; normally, they were _always_ convinced.

"Giles, I don't think a piece of lint can be the size of a dinner plate. C'mon, I'm the Slayer! Not the _mistakes balls of lint for big tattoos on her Watcher's back _Slayer. So give! Show me."

"Buffy, there really isn't anything to -"

"Hey guys!"

They both turned, glancing towards the entrance where Willow walked through.

"Willow," Giles breathed her name as he stood up, though his eyes never left Buffy. He began to loosen his tie and stripped of his vest. Placing it on the table in front of him, he began to unbutton his shirt, still keeping his gaze on his Slayer. With his back to Willow, he brought his shirt down, uncovering his left shoulder.

"Willow, do tell Buffy that there is absolutely no tattoo located on my left shoulder."

Buffy frowned, looking at her Watcher who now had his eyes closed. She moved her eyes to her best-friend, taking in her surprised look - almost as if she had seen something. However, her eyes descended into a half-lidded state before she spoke.

"Buffy, there is absolutely no tattoo located on Giles's left shoulder."

Giles opened his eyes, staring defiantly into Buffy's. "See. Proof enough?"

"I'll believe it when I see it, Giles."

He swallowed hard, and for a split second, he wondered if she'd rush him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Xander's entrance interrupted any further discussion. He closed his eyes, voice soft once more. "Xander, just in time. Tell Doubting Thomas over there, that there is no tattoo on my left shoulder."

"Who's Thomas?"

"Never mind. Just tell Buffy," he spoke through grit teeth, trying to rally his patience.

Buffy stood up at she took in Xander's surprised look - a flash of the emotion - before he too followed Willow's steps.

"Sorry Buffster. There is no tattoo on Giles's left shoulder."

"Okay guys, what is this, a trick? I know what I saw, Giles! Did you guys rehearse this? Screw with Buffy day!" She stood up, arms crossed and temper slightly elevated. "Let's all join in the Slayer Screw'age

parade - "

"- okay!"

All three looked at Xander, who now sported a sheepish look. "Heh, keep forgetting to use my inside _head_ voice."

Giles stood up, straightening his shirt and buttoning it. He put on his vest tie again, straightening it. "So, now can we move on? We can start with some light research before your classes."

"Fine, whatever."

"What apocalyptic hoe-down are we researching now?" Xander asked, glancing up at the mezzanine.

"Buffy's been having some rather disturbing dreams," Giles offered, hoping his Slayer would fill her friends in on the contents. Somehow, he didn't feel comfortable offering those specific details. He leaned against one of the bookshelves with a sigh, books on dream interpretation and symbols held tightly against his chest. He listened idly as she explained her dreams, and listened as her friends offered her comfort.

He let out a breath, eyes searching the empty space in front of him, almost seeking an answer to be pulled from thin air. He wondered what could have triggered it. Why and why now. He pushed himself off the bookshelf and made his way to the mezzanine, stopping slightly out of view as he heard Buffy's voice question her friends.

"So you guys really didn't see anything?"

"Anything what?" Xander asked in return, taking out a juice box from his bag.

"Giles's other tattoo."

"Giles has another tattoo?" Willow asked, looking perplexed. "Are you feeling okay, Buffy? Maybe that dream wigged you out more than you thought."

He took that moment to make his presence known, throwing a warning glance at his Slayer to cease the tattoo subject and focus on her dreams.

The gang worked for an hour straight, tossing ideas and writing down theories. Giles kept catching Buffy staring at him, and he would hold her gaze until she realized her actions and divert her attention. He smiled softly to himself at the pale blush that coloured her cheeks.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, finishing off his third cup of tea. "I do believe you lot have a class to go to. If you aren't too busy, I'd like to continue researching some more tonight. I have an appointment at four o'clock, but I'll be back by six. You can make yourselves at home here," he told them, pointing towards his office. "There are a few snacks and drinks -"

"- sweet!"

"- which Willow and/or Buffy shall ration," he look pointedly at Xander, who grinned cheekily at him. "Continue researching and I shall join you."

"Cool!" Xander and Willow chorused as they grabbed their bags and headed for the door.

"So I'm thinking we should get some training in, Giles."

His head shot up and he regarded her with caution. "…okay, what did you do?"

"What? A Slayer can't want to train? It's part of my calling and all that blah blah."

"A Slayer _can_ want to train," he began, head cocked to the side with a curious grin. "However _this_ Slayer has never shown any desire to, before." He narrowed his eyes, trying to read her obviously forced innocence. "Just what are you planning?"

"Jeez, Giles! Seriously. Don't have a hernia! I just don't feel up to par at the moment."

"Okay, we'll leave Willow and Xander to research and you and I shall do a bit of sparing."

"Perfect!" She clapped her hands together, throwing him a coquettish smile before heading to the door.

He watched her go, watched the gentle sway of her hips, a smile still on his face. It was only after she had left that his smile turned into a frown and worry settled deep in the pit of his belly. His appointment was one with himself, a mere two hours to meditate and find the answers he was seeking, from the one place he knew would never lie. From the one being he could always trust.

He piled up the books and notes left by the others, and put them in his office. As he reached for his cup of tea, a group of students and their teacher came in, chattering softly and taking over the library. He smiled as politely as he could, trying hard not to cringe each time a book was not replaced in its home.

Letting out a controlled breath, he sent a silent prayer to the Gods, hoping that he'd be able to survive the day.

* * *

Buffy peeked around the corner, watching as Giles locked up the library, briefcase in hand.

"Why are we spying on Giles?"

"Shh!" She turned, throwing her best-friend a glare.

"We're spying on Giles? I was promised cookies."

"Xander! Shh!"

Buffy glanced at the Watcher again, brows furrowed as she took in his odd behaviour. In fact, he'd been acting out of sorts all day. She watched as he stopped down the hall, idle and unmoving. His back was to her, and it was only thanks to her Slayer hearing that she caught the tail end of his softly whispered "I know."

He continued towards the main exit and she had to put a hand to her mouth to cover her gasp. She had seen it. Her eyes hadn't played tricks on her, but she had seen the distinct shape of a hand almost immerge from his back. Just like in her dreams.

"Buffy, what's wrong?" Willow asked, a hand on her shoulder.

"Did you guys see that? Giles…his back. That hand thing!"

"Where?"

"When he was just near the exit…I saw it, Will!" Buffy stood up and walked towards the library, determination in her step. "We're getting to the bottom of this."

"W-what are we going to do? Ambush him! Make him take us to his leader?" Willow asked, following Buffy.

"We're going to snoop."

"Ooh!" Xander began, rubbing his hands together. "Snoop I can do!"

She locked the door behind her, heading straight for his office. Checking the filing cabinet there, she gave it a gentle tug, breaking the lock. She pulled out all of his old Watcher journals and handed them to Willow. "You get started on this and I'm going to search in the occult section for demonic symbols."

"Demonic?"

"Something's not right and I kept getting an extreme case of the Slayer wiggin's today." She looked to the door almost wistfully. "I didn't want to say anything cos I'm not sure myself, but it was every time I was near Giles." She looked back at her red-headed companion, worry in her eyes.

Willow nodded and took the journals, sitting down beside Xander who was already munching on his sixth cookie and a glass of Cream Soda. The two started leafing through them.

A few minutes later, Buffy came down with several books on demons and occult symbols. "It isn't like Giles to be frivolous and get a random tattoo," she began, as she opened up the book on occult symbols. "It has to mean _something_," she trailed off, flipping the pages rapidly as her eyes scanned the book.

"Yeah, I mean, look at his Eyghon tattoo. _That_ definitely meant something. Giles would probably get something like this one," Xander said, holding up a journal from the 1490s. "This seems really familiar…" he trailed off, looking at it upside down.

"Yeah, it feels like I've seen that too. I just don't remember where. I mean, it's not from just now, because I wouldn't have had that sense of déjà-vue, but from not so long ago, you know."

Buffy's eyes grew wide. "It was from this morning, Will."

"Huh?"

"That. That's his tattoo."

Willow grabbed the occult symbol book from Buffy and leafed through until she got to the index. She traced her finger across the word and searched for it. "It can't be." She shook her head, looking up at Buffy before holding up the book. "The Shiv'gar mark is branded on those who have been possessed."

"What's going on?"

All three looked up, breaths held, as Giles stood there, arms folded across his chest. In perfect synchronicity, the three of them stood up and remained planted, uneasily. "Oh Holy of Holies, repel the evil!" On a whim, Xander took his glass and sprayed the contents on Giles.

He stood there, eyes closed as the sticky, sickly-sweet liquid clung to his face, droplets cascading down. "I am not a vampire, Xander," he began, surprisingly calm. "Several manifestations attest to that, the first being the most important." He pointed towards the window where all three looked at the sun streaming in. "You've seen me in daylight."

"Second," he interrupted the young man who had been about to speak, "for Holy Water to be affective in the fight against vampires, one must assure that it is in fact blessed, and it is in fact," he paused, opening his eyes and glaring at him, "water."

Xander took a step forward, hands thrust in his pockets. "Towel?"

"Yes please." He nodded when Xander handed him the towel, drying his face before looking back at the three of them. "So," Giles continued, taking off his suit jacket and vest. "Any progress?"

"Um, no." Buffy smiled, standing in front of the table and casually trying to close the Watcher journals. "We searched. We uh…we came up with nada. Right Will?"

"Uh yeah. None. No _na_, no_ da_." The young red-head paused. "Actually, that's a double negative. That would mean there was _na_ and _da._"

"Okay, Willy no talky now." Buffy turned back to face her Watcher, who was now drying his face with the towel that Xander brought. "So, Giles. Training?" She asked, cringing at how eagerly fake she sounded. "Got a lot of energy to burn and Willow and Xander have to be home cos Willow's mom his making their famous um, pork chops!"

Giles stood, both eyebrows raised as he stared at his Slayer, obviously caught in a lie. "Willow's parents are practicing Jews. I highly doubt that pork chops are on the menu for tonight, Buffy. Perhaps a substitute should be mentioned in haste, so as not to raise my suspicions," he spoke calmly, an indescribable smile on his face.

"Training. Now." She spoke, hands planted on her hips. "You two, go."

The two nodded, and grabbed their bags, bidding the Watcher a farewell, but at a distance.

He turned and looked to his Slayer, advancing on her. He looked over her shoulder at the books strewn about. "You broke into my cabinet?" He asked, not looking at her. His eyes fell upon the journal closest to her, and he picked it up, leafing through. He kept his face neutral but his heart speed increased. He looked at the mark of Shiv'gar and felt his shoulder burn.

"Show me."

"We've been over this, Buffy. There is _nothing_ to show."

"Then how come I recognized this?! It sure wasn't from my pastime of looking up demonic markings!"

"You probably _think_ you saw that, but I can assure you -"

"- then show me your back," she interrupted, voice stern and stubborn.

"I refuse to cater to your every whim, Buffy. You have to learn to trust me."

"You're lying to me! How can I trust you?!"

"I am not lying to you!" He yelled back, anger and anxiety mixing a dangerous brew. "Why can't you just accept my answer?!"

She grabbed him by the neck and slammed him hard against the table. "If you won't show me, I'll see for myself." She mumbled with a stubborn drive.

He struggled against her for a moment, but realized that it was futile.

She frowned as his body went limp for a second. "Giles?" She leaned forward, straining to see his face which was pressed against the journals.

In a second, she was on her back and he was now standing on top of her. "Buffy, leave well enough alone. I'm begging you."

She looked up into his eyes, hearing the desperation in his voice and seeing it echo in his deep greens. She almost faltered, but instead swiped at his feet, bringing him down to the floor beside her. She pounced on his, hands reaching for his shirt, buttons flying everywhere.

He grunted at her weight on him, his body responding but his mind too preoccupied to allow the pleasant feel of her against him. His fantasies knew of such pressure, of such pleasure. He grabbed her arms and held them away, as she continued to bat against him.

"You jerk! Why don't you trust _me_!" She yelled, as she kneed him in the groin.

He dropped her arms and fisted his hands as he curled up, biting down hard on his lip to avoid the expletives that were dancing idle on the tip of his tongue.

In his currently vulnerable state, she took the opportunity to roll him on his back. Straddling his waist, she grabbed each side of his shirt and began to rip it from the bottom up, her drive to wanting to be proved wrong stronger than her logic.

It happened in a second and it felt like a sonic pulse that had slammed into her body. The next thing she knew, she was sprawled on the floor, more than halfway across the room. Giles still lay on the ground as well, but he was now on his back, propped up on his elbows and staring at her aghast.

They both scrambled up, one with a look of regret while the other stared back with fear fuelled adrenaline.

"Buffy…I -"

"- no. Don't touch me." She interrupted him, taking a fighting stance.

His stomach clenched and he looked away, mortified by his behaviour. "Sometimes, the person you trust the least proves to be your destined ally." He whispered, still keeping his gaze to the floor.

"So maybe one day, we'll be allies," she grit, cautiously grabbing her bag and skirting around him, her body always ready to retaliate. "But for now…I don't even know who you are." She backed up towards the door, one hand on the cool wood while the other remained as a fist. "You stay away from my friends. You come near them…you come near me…" She continued, her voice trembling as tears lined her eyes. "I'll kill you."

Giles watched her go, and stood there, body aching with sharp pains. He walked slowly towards the table and began to clean up, gathering all of his old Watcher journals. Moving towards his office, he placed them chronologically, frowning when the very first one was missing: the 1492 to 1501 edition. He got up and jogged toward the table, searching through note papers and books. He bent down, albeit with great effort, and searched under the table.

"Shit."

***

Buffy closed the door to her room, looking sadly at her two friends who sported the same expression.

"So do you think it was magic?"

"I don't know Will. It was almost like this force field. It sent me flying!"

"Did it hurt?"

"It was more like being really roughly pushed away. My butt still hurts from hitting the floor though." Buffy responded, taking out a journal from her bag. "Managed to steal this. I think this holds a lot of our answers."

"Stealing from Giles, Buffy? I don't know…it doesn't feel right." Willow began, looking at the journal with a mixture of interest, excitement and guilt.

"He's not our Giles anymore, Will."

"Buffy's right, Willow. That wasn't Giles. Giles would never hurt Buffy. Would never put us in danger. You said it yourself, he's possessed with the Shivy thing."

Willow nodded and Buffy smiled, running a hand through her hair. "We'll figure it out. We'll find a way to save Giles."

***

It had been two days since he had seen them and he knew for certain that Buffy had told Willow and Xander of the events that had transpired. He leaned his head back against the couch, cursing himself for not trusting them. For not trusting her. His heart ached at the thought that she hated him. No, he shook his head. Not hate…he could live with hate. What pained him was the fear in her eyes.

He glanced down at the pot of tea, four cups and the array of cookies that sat on the coffee table. Every day, at six o'clock, he would put them out. More of a habit, but deep down, it was more of a hope. Hope that they would try to make contact.

That they wouldn't be afraid anymore. That they would trust him enough to come to him.

That she would trust him again.

That she would come to him.

He glanced at the door, wondering if it was his mind that was playing tricks and the knocking was just his subconscious's way of screwing with him. He stood up and took a few tentative steps, when suddenly the door burst open. He stared wide-eyed before everything went black.

***

"I don't get it. There was another Watcher named Rupert Giles?" Xander asked, finishing off his glass of milk in a long gulp.

"That's what it says. He writes that he was called when he was ten years old. And that after a period of rebelling, he finally gave in to his destiny."

Buffy frowned. "That sounds like our Giles." She paused, her frown slipping to a sad smile. "Well, our old Giles."

"And this is the guy from 1490?"

Willow nodded, pointing to the book. "It's Giles."

"No! It can't be! He wouldn't lie to us for four years!"

"Buffy," Willow held up the book which now held the insignia she had seen tattooed on Giles' back. "It speaks of a demon called Ghar'mon. He can only survive through possession, jumping from one body to another. If he is without a body for more than a minute, he ignites."

"Poof?" Xander asked.

"Poof. On fire."

"Buffy, the history that this Giles wrote about…it matches. It matches with everything our Giles has told us."

Buffy sat down, dropping her head in her hands. "So either our Giles is a five-hundred year old demon or this guy is an imposter, posing as someone who we've grown to care about." She stared straight ahead, unable to curb the emotions in her heart. "Why would someone _do _something like that?" She asked, tears in her voice. "Why didn't he tell us? What does he want?"

Willow held her friend tightly. "We need to talk to him, Buffy."

"Willow's right, Buff. If he's a demon…if he's dangerous…we're going to have to…"

She nodded. "I know." She let out a shaky breath, her heart breaking.

_--TBC--_


	2. Chapter 2

The heavy wooden door creaked open, loosened wood pieces splintering to the floor with the momentum. Three faces peered in, breaths held and hearts thumping in tandem.

Buffy wasn't sure what she was more afraid of: finding Giles' waiting for them, or finding him hurt. A quick glance to either side confirmed her friends shared the same sentiment.

She held up her hand, motioning them to wait at the entrance while she did a quick sweep. It couldn't be vampires, as the Sun had barely crossed the horizon. Glass crinkled underneath her feet and papers crunched in the silence, as she took in the mayhem that was once her Watcher's apartment. Books were strewn, bottles and glasses broken, tables upturned.

"There was a struggle," she commented more to herself, though loud enough for her friends to hear. She closed her eyes, searching deep inside her, trying to ignite the bond they once shared. The one that she realized had seemed to fade, ever since that fateful day in the library, a week ago.

"Buffy?"

Willow's voice broke her concentration, and the Slayer glanced over her shoulder, towards the doorway. "What's up?" Her eyebrows rested high on her forehead as she walked over to her best-friend, eyes trained on the small card that was held between Willow's index and thumb. "Calling card?"

"Maybe Ethan? Giles said that sometimes Ethan likes to play cat and mouse games. Maybe _he_ took Giles. It's a trap, Buffy. Ethan is trying to lure you, using Giles as bait."

"Woah. Breathe, Will. Breathe," Buffy comforted her friend, before observing the card. "Hmm."

Xander glanced at the blonde Slayer. "That a good _hmm _or a bad _hmm_," he asked curiously, hoping for the former. "Cos I really am hoping for a good _hmm_…we haven't had a good _hmm_ in a long time. We deserve some good _hmm_s."

"I'm being summoned," she replied, with a distracted air, "by the Council." Her eyes snapped to her friends, interest brewing. "To a private exorcism. Hosted right here in merry ol' Sunnydale."

Willow's mouth opened and closed, little squeaks coming out but no coherent thoughts filtering through. Finally, the red-head took a breath, eyes crinkled with worry. "Buffy? You don't think they…" She paused, searching for her words. "You don't think that they're going to kill him, do you?"

Buffy glanced out at the now setting Sun, worry bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Her insides felt knotted and her heart heavy. "Will, Xand…call your folks and say that you are sleeping over at each other's houses. I don't know how long this…this exorcism is gonna take, but I need you guys -"

"- in a heartbeat, Buffy!" Willow interrupted her, nodding with fearful excitement.

"We're here, Buff, no matter what," Xander added, one arm going around the Slayer, for a light hug.

She smiled, drawing hope and strength from them, realizing how lucky she was to have such fiercely loyal friends.

***

The ride to the industrial section was short in theory, but to Buffy, it felt like hours. The nausea still hadn't left, and her heart and mind were constantly battling. Whatever had taken over Giles' body had to be destroyed. Her mind knew and accepted, but her heart refused to give up the biggest constant in her life. She was his life's purpose as he was her's - of that she was certain.

Scrubbing a hand over her face, she kept her hand on the door handle, staring up at the abandoned docking station. "Wait here for my signal. If things get rough…leave me behind."

Xander avoided eye-contact, nodding quietly.

"Xander," she leaned in, a warning on the tip of her tongue. "Don't make me beat a promise out of you, because damnit, I'll do it. Your lives are not more valuable than mine. I _want_ you to promise me…please?"

The desperation in her voice caused him to look up, and he tilted his head to the side, arguing with her silently, and trying to fight the battle within.

"I don't know what's going to happen, Xand. I can't guarantee that things'll be alright - Hell I don't even know what's going on. I…" She looked out, staring at the small sliver of a moon looming overhead. "I just want Giles back…so bad." Emotion laced her voice, and she felt wetness near spill. Blinking back subjectivity, she tapped the hood of the van as she walked by. "Promise," she pointed to him, finally accepting his reluctant nod. "Be careful," she whispered, pushing a crate near one of the boarded up windows.

***

Three minutes, five splinters and two broken nails later, she jumped into the building, the dust clearing from where her feet landed. Standing up tall, she glanced at the five men that now surrounded her. Fighting stance almost secondary nature, she observed them, trying to pinpoint weakness and plan a course of action.

Memories almost caused her to double over, as training sessions with Giles whipped through her mind. Words of encouragement and wisdom, harsh corrections laced with support offered her tools to fight not only better, but smarter. _He would have been so proud_, she thought solemnly, as she tightened her fist.

In a second, two men charged her from either directions, and she waited for an opportune moment. Raising her right leg slightly, she kicked her leg out, using the taller man's speed to her advantage. Her foot connected with his knee, a crunching noise distinctly heard as she used it as leverage. Pushing herself up, she spun, her heel coming into contact with the shorter, slower man's face. Her two feet were back on the ground before the dust even settled.

She snapped her hand back, fist ready and waiting, as she glanced at the three remaining men. She stood patiently, waiting for them to make the first move as she remembered Giles always warning her that defense was the best offense.

A rather stout man leaped forward, grabbing her by the legs. She toppled down, squirming against his strong hold, feeling her legs weaken due to his death grip. Reaching down, she ignored the throbbing and grabbed him by the hair, wrenching his body away from her. She kick-flipped back to a standing position, struggling for a moment as blood began to circulate in her lower extremities.

A quick punch to the nose, followed by a karate chop to the side and finally a kick to the outside of the knee brought the large man down. She ignored the aftermath of that fight, eyes already trained on the two other men who had now seemed to take a step back.

She advanced slowly, only to be stopped by a slow clap, echoing in the dank room.

"Miss Summers. I must say, it is quite a pleasure to see you in action."

She glanced up, eyes narrowing before setting her jaw tightly. Something about this man caused her blood to boil. Whispers of images filtered through her mind again; pictures of sizzling blood drops and tearing skin. She swallowed hard, banishing those thoughts as she watched the man approach her.

He was dressed in an expensive suit, tailored-made by the looks of it. His thinning white hair was cut short, his eyes were warm, though forced, she suspected, to perhaps give the illusion of trust. "You know, you really ought to reconsider this whole cliché abandoned warehouse gig. Très passé."

"Many apologies on the location, dear Slayer," Quentin offered, voice as smooth as his movements towards her. "Allow me to introduce myself," he began, holding out a hand which was not reciprocated. "Head of the Council, Quentin Travers." He clasped his hands behind his back. "We only just found out of um, Rupert's…well, condition. We had to find a secluded area in case…well in case the exorcism does not go according to plan."

She stared him down, as he now stood face to face with her. "And you need me because…"

"You are the active Slayer on duty, Miss Summers. It is your job to annihilate the threat should the procedure fail."

"And by that you mean…" In her heart, she knew the answer but she had vainly hoped her summon was to merely administer the antidote. She shook her head, lips pressed tightly. "But he's my Watcher." It was a desperate whisper that tumbled out of her mouth, not the controlled delivery that she had intended.

"You _will_ kill him should the purging fail, Miss Summers." His voice was sharp.

She stared at him with a controlled, neutral expression. "Let me see him." It was a respectful demand, but the intensity in her voice cut off scolding that the older man had prepared.

"Very well."

***

The door swung open silently, hinges unnaturally oiled for an abandoned building. The inside of the room offered a protective viewing area to the right, behind what she assumed to be several layers of bullet-proof glass. It was clean, tidy. Sterile. Her eyes searched each corner, noting cameras positioned and standing strong.

To the left stood a large table with an array of books, folders, surgical instruments and a small chest. She walked over to it, almost drawn to the box. Her fingers traced the heavy chain around it, and she took a step back, feeling the contents jump.

"What's -" The words died on her lips as she turned, eyes resting on the bruised and battered figure, in the middle of the room. He was tied to a chair, rope having rubbed the skin raw from where she assumed he tried to fight his restraints. "Giles," she whispered almost silently, walking towards him slowly.

"Slayer…"

She ignored Quentin's motive to distract her as she continued her journey to her Watcher. Stopping in front of him, she knelt down, hands on his knees. She felt more than heard his sharp intake, wondering how many bones were broken, how many bruises coloured his body. Closing her eyes, she wondered what torture he had to endure. She reached up shakily, tracing his split lip, wiping away the blood that still trickled from it. Her other hand moved to his eye, lightly dusting the discolouration.

He still hadn't opened his eyes, and had she not felt his body jerk in pain at her gentle touches, she would have thought him to be unconscious.

"Was this absolutely necessary?" She asked, turning abruptly to face the Head Council. "I think a restraint would have been enough -"

Quentin chuckled, absently cleaning off a knife that still shimmered with his blood. The blade looked dull, almost eaten through. He placed it back on the table and picked up the small chest, holding it close to his body.

Buffy cocked her head to the side, watching as he approached her. She took the box offered to her, holding it as Quentin opened the heavy chain. She could feel the contents inside begin to move, to thrash around. "What's going on?"

"The cure," he said, motioning her to join him at the other end of the room. He turned her so that she was now facing her Watcher, box held tightly as the contents continued its tantrum.

"Buffy, let me introduce to you," he spread his arm out, motioning Giles, who still sat motionless, "Ghar'mon."

Buffy nodded. "A demon who can only survive by possession."

"Unfortunately, your Watcher has fooled us all, including you." The man leaned in, one arm around the Slayer's shoulder. "Lied to us. Built trust until he could strike at our weakest moment." Quentin walked up to the captive, grabbing the chair and spinning him around. He produced a jackknife from his pocket and snapped it open, cutting along the fabric of Giles' white dress shirt. "When possessed, the demon burns his insignia on the victim." He deliberately put emphasis on the term, wanting to build a level of sympathy. He hid his smile, knowing that the Slayer would follow her heart more than reason. To make Rupert Giles the victim instead of the offender would make for an easy puppet for him to command.

She held her breath, the image of seeing the fleeting tattoo from a few days ago, still burned in her mind. "Why did you lie, Giles?" She asked, softly.

"He had to, my dear Slayer. Well, Rupert Giles didn't. Ghar'mon did. He's taken over Rupert's body." He stripped Giles of his shirt, turning the chair back around, to face the slayer.

Bruises had already began to show, and she wondered how long he had been here. Fresh scars and cuts lay criss-crossed across his skin and she averted her eyes, tears lining them.

"Ghar'mon possessed a potential Watcher, about five hundred years ago," Quentin began, hands once again clasped behind his back as he lectured the young Slayer. "He has the keen ability to manipulate a person's mind, hiding and growing stronger for the past half millennium. What he told, we hungrily believed. Why, he could have told you that he was a talking horse, and we would have eagerly believed the cunning demon."

"So why now? Why can I feel him? How did the Council find out?" Buffy interrupted Quentin.

"He's at his peak. He no longer _wants_ to hide, but to now wreak havoc." He walked to a map, spreading it out on the table and motioning Buffy to join him. "You know, Rupert had _asked_ to be relocated here. He had been researching for years as to the location of the next Hellmouth. And I had never _ever_ once asked myself as to why Rupert had always been a Watcher every time a Hellmouth had opened." He pointed to the map where several places had been circled. "At first, I thought it coincidental that he was on active duty, three times, at three different Hellmouths." He shook his head, voice laced with forced regret. "Oh, how I was fooled."

Buffy closed her eyes, feeling his voice try to call out to her. She turned back, her eyes meeting the gently greens she had grown to love. Before her sat strapped not a demon, but her Watcher. Her best-friend. Her life. She felt her resolve falter.

"It was only upon reviewing my Grandfather's and Great-Grandfather's journals that told tale of a respectful watcher by the name of Rupert Giles, that my mind began to un-cloud. I traced back his time served to five hundred years ago, to almost this day. And every Hellmouth since has been depleted - the energy fueling this soulless demon's twisted desire." Quentin stood in front of the Watcher, glaring down at him, with a hidden smile in his eyes. "This cloud has finally been lifted, and we can once and for all rid the world of the entity that his Ghar'mon."

Buffy kept her eyes on Giles as she walked closer to him, feeling the box's pull. As she neared, she watched as he convulsed, his back arching and his screams finally breaking his silence. She dropped the chest as she saw a two hands try to break free from his body, stretching the skin until a few drops broke, falling to the floor with a boil. "Giles!" She breathed, her prophetic dream coming to pass and causing a feeling of dread to well inside.

"Buffy," he grit between clenched teeth. "It's killing me!"

She bent down and picked it up, moving to the far end of the room, her back against the cold cement tile. She held the box behind her back, putting herself between them.

"Child," Quentin walked up, his voice now stern and a certain twinkle in his eye. "It has to be done. Put your Watcher to rest." He dropped his voice, "let him finally sleep in peace." He turned, pointing vehemently at the man still bound, head thrown back and body exhausted. "Banish the demon!" He reached for the box. "Let me, Child. I'll spare you the pain…"

"Buffy, no! NO!" Giles called out, fighting against the restraints. "Listen to me, Buffy. Quentin -"

"- is it true?!" She yelled, holding on tightly. "Is it true, Giles?"

He dropped his chin to his chest, nodding slightly. "Most of it…but I'm not evil."

Quentin scoffed, leaning against the wall. "Right. What evil mastermind has _not_ uttered those very words?" He turned to Buffy, mouth near her ear. "Listen, he's trying to manipulate you. But you know better…end this now before it gets out of hand. Before he grows stronger -"

"Quentin wants Ghar'mon, Buffy. He wants to control him -"

"- don't listen to that fool, Buffy! I want to _destroy_ it. I am here to protect the world -"

"- he wants power, Buffy! And if you give him that chest, you will be giving him an unprecedented amount of power. He will kill you…" His voice broke at the last statement, his chest heaving from exhaustion and pain. "Buffy," Giles pleaded with her.

His words whispered through her heart, _sometimes, the person you trust the least proves to be your destined ally_. She glanced towards Quentin, who stood with his hand still outstretched, coaxing her to give him the chest. Her eyes slid over to Giles, who sat there, body trembling. From where she stood, she could see the tears slide down his cheeks; she could see a man who was broken, lost in despairs and hardships and lies. But how much was still the Giles she had grown to trust, depend on, love?

"I'm so sorry, Giles," she whispered, opening up the chest and gazing inside. She reached for the crystal, feeling warmth buzz through her body as he fingers closed around the smooth, cool glass exterior. Inside the crystal, mist seemed to gather and roll, creating an inner vortex of vibrant reds and purples, mingling and mixing in hues. She glanced up at Quentin, holding out the crystal for him, catching the crestfallen look on the Watcher's face, as she sealed his fate.

--TBC--


	3. Chapter 3

The crystal ball had barely touched Quentin's fingers when she allowed it to roll, hearing the older man's gasp before glass shards scattered at her feet. She glanced up at the Head of Council, defiance in her eyes. "I hate being lied to -" the rest of her statement was cut off, as strands of purple haze whipped around her.

The funnels of smoke were cool to the touch as they circled her, almost scanning her body. She felt breeze as they whispered by, surrounding her before separating into six different ropes. They whizzed around the room, everyone turning on their heels to track the agitated motions.

One zipped by, too close and cutting her cheek. She felt the energy begin to anger, and began to dodge the attacks. She rolled to the side, moving out of harm's way, but her Watcher's grunts caught her attention. She watched in horror, his name but a soft gasp from her lips, as the swarms of coloured smoke began to circle his body.

His demon began to grow more and more agitated, as she witnessed hands wanting to break free, stretching his skin from the inside. She bit her lip, wanting to look away every time his cries broke through the mayhem in the room.

"Giles!" She pushed herself up and attempted to move to him, wanting to protect him.

"Foolish child!" Quentin grabbed her roughly by the arm, pulling her down to the floor as another wave of coloured funnels screamed by. "Don't you see what you've done?" He pointed towards Giles, where one serpent-like cloud circled him before shooting painfully into the left side of his neck.

Giles cried out in pain, thrashing against his restraints. Fingers clenched, he bucked against the chair as he managed to free his left arm, breaking the heavy manacle right off the arm of the chair. Another cry echoed as another cloud bolted through his right leg, allowing him to break the metal restraint there, that had once kept him immobile.

"You're feeding the beast!" Quentin exclaimed through grit teeth, though Buffy could easily make out fear amidst the anger in his voice.

She looked back at her Watcher, seeing him finally freed from his restraints. She watched him collapse to the ground, in a heap, his broken body spent from the powerful energy overloading his system. She glanced up, a violent red still streaking across the room. She watched as it plunged, hitting him in lower back, his body arching painfully. The shock forced his whole body momentarily off the floor before it crashed back down.

"Giles!" She cried out, pushing herself out of Quentin's hold and rushing to him. She bent down, slowly reaching out to his unmoving form until a powerful blast pushed her back. She glanced up at him as he stood with ease, as he watched the cuts and bruises slowly dissipate from his skin.

Her eyes met his - remnants of a glowing red dissipating to those familiar greens. She eyed him as he extended a hand to help her up before pushing herself back, not caring about her dignity as she scurried backwards, in a crab-like motion.

Quentin stood up, standing in front of Buffy, putting space between them in an attempt to protect her. "It's over, Rupert." He looked back down at the girl, seemingly fragile and scared. "You've frightened your last ally. Give up." He looked as if he was going to take a step forward, but instead stood his ground. "Give him up."

"Buffy…" Giles ignored the older man, focusing only on his Slayer. "Buffy, come with me. You know in your heart, you know I am _good_, and not this monster that these people make me out to be. I promise you…"

"Your promises have gotten you no where. Alone and alienated for five hundred years. On the run and power hungry -"

"- I have quelled any hunger and have atoned for any sins that I have committed in the past," Giles spoke with conviction.

His passion had been so strong that Buffy had to look away, to trust her inner thoughts without the aid of seeing familiarity. She stood and took a shaky step forward, decisions still battling between heart and mind. She watched as several men gathered behind Quentin, understood that a fight was about to start.

However, she somehow knew that her Watcher needed no help - that the concentrated energy that had been trapped in that crystal ball, had offered him more power than she could ever imagine. She knew not of the extent, but she knew the dangers it posed.

Buffy watched Giles walk cautiously backwards until he reached the door. He jerked it open, the lock breaking with simplicity. There was a stunned look on his face before he schooled his emotions. "Buffy," he pleaded with her one last time, one last breath of hope exhaled before it all ended.

Before he became a wanted man, alone and on the run. However, this time, being chased by the ones he trusted.

She walked almost mechanically to the table, where she picked up the knife that Quentin had been cleaning before. She could feel Giles' energy still radiating from the knife. She gripped the handle tightly, blade pointed downwards as she walked towards her Watcher.

"That's right, child. This ends now," Quentin encouraged her, a satisfied smile on his face.

She nodded slightly, cheeks splashed with tears as she held up the knife. Demon or not, she knew her Watcher would never fight her.

Giles let out a sigh, head bent with acceptance. It had been an easier battle than he thought. He smiled sadly to himself, eyes closed as he focused on his breathing, feeling it in tandem with hers. Part of him wasn't surprise that their bond, though weak, still whispered it's connection.

She spun on her heel and threw the knife with desperate accuracy. The blade punctured the side of Quentin's left shoulder, forcing him against his men, and finally on to the floor, as his cries of agony resounded in hushed room.

"Now!" She yelled, pushing him out the door.

Once outside the room, they found themselves in a dank hallway, the smell of sewers and grime permeating the air. Fixing the door back on it's hinges, they moved two heavy barrels against it, hoping that it would buy them some time. They ran down the hall, two sets of feet pounding against concrete, coming to an intersection that led three different ways!

"I totally had you," she panted, hands on her knees to catch her breath, before they began to run down the left-hand hall. "You looked as if you were going to pee in your pants!"

"You most certainly did not _have me _," he replied, equally out of breath. "I can read you like a bloody book!"

"So you weren't scared enough to wet your pants?" She asked, skidding to a halt before backtracking and following him as he took a sharp turn around the corner. "Not even a trickle?"

"No, I assure you my bladder is all but secure, though I appreciate your concern." He pulled to a halt, stumbling a few steps as her body crashed into his. "They've got to be out of the room, by now. Looking for us." He looked around, his calculating eyes scanning their environment. He glanced up, noting that the rafters were to high and would most probably put them at a disadvantage. His ears picked up the sound of running water, and he glanced to his Slayer, wondering if her senses had picked up on it as well.

They both glanced down simultaneously, one with a sly smile, and the other with a disapproving glare.

"You have _got_ to be kidding! These are new boots!" She whined as she helped him unhook the heavy metal grate. She glanced over her shoulder as she heard footsteps echo down the empty halls.

"Your bloody fault you decide to come to an exorcism with a fashion statement," he grunted as they finally managed to move the piece. He followed her in, letting out another grunt as he placed the metal grate back over the opening. They silently climbed down the ladder, two sets of contained splashes and one muffled '_ew' _resounding through the empty sewers.

"Giles," Buffy whined, glancing down at the dark brown, sometimes green sludge that waded ankle-deep against her suede boots.

"Do you have a flashlight?" He asked her, hand already out and waiting for the item. His eyes continued to scan the area, taking in the darkness on either side of them. Luckily the opening above them cast some light, however the rest of the journey was going to be made in the pitch-black of the unknown.

"Flashlight? Yeah, I can do that." She lifted up her right leg and slipped two fingers inside, pulling out a slim, mini flashlight. "Fit perfectly…inside my boot," she mourned, stroking the top of the brown suede.

"Thank you," he whispered, taking it from her. Any other exchanges were interrupted by the sound of the metal grate moving up above. Placing one leg in front of him, he pulled his arm back and shot the flashlight down the narrow corridor, nodding to himself as it hit the corner and disappeared further down. However, the faint glow of the light could still be seen, even after he listened to it settle in the putrid water.

"My flashlight!" She hushed her shriek.

"Your jacket," he spoke to her quickly, already pushing it off her shoulders.

"Hey hey hey! First my boots, then my pretty pink flashlight…now my jacket? What? In need of a thong too?" She whispered back, though not denying him his demand.

Before she could speak further, he pushed her against the wall, in a small indent, right behind the metal stairs. Draping her jacket over his back, he pressed his body flush against her's, burying his face against her neck, praying that the darkness would cloak them.

Buffy held her breath, her hands gripping his hips, her body tense. The emotions were conflicting and her heart felt as though it would burst from the pain the situation was inflicting. Part of her understood that he was still a demon, now fed with even more power - energy that was hungrily devoured and the ramifications were instantaneous. But on the other hand, he was still her Watcher. Her friend. Her…her something more.

He still had a place, deep in her heart. One that nothing could ever remove him from. A place that had held his existence for so long, with more years in denial than acceptance. She let out a silent breath, feeling his skin goose bump beneath her exhalation. Pressing her cheek against his chest, she reveled in the warmth that transferred, skin to skin. His heartbeat. She felt a caress against her face, almost as if a hand cupped her cheek. She fought hard not to pull back, fought to swallow her sharp intake.

They both listened as orders were given and flashlights were turned on. Giles bit his lip, eyes closed as he prayed they would fall for the bait and head down towards the anemic light that shone.

He finally let out a silent breath of thanks as he heard them fall for their trickery. He handed back her jacket, waiting for her as she put it on before motioning her silently to follow him.

He clasped her hand in his as he led her towards the opposing direction, into a worried darkness. Gliding his hands across the rough wall, his fingers skimmed across rocks and mildew, filth and mold. They walked with calculated steps, hoping to keep the sloshing noise to a minimal as they ventured further into the blackness.

"Giles, it's pitch black," Buffy whispered. "Do you know where we're going?"

"Haven't the foggiest," he replied with sincerity, but still continued to creep into the stilled black. She didn't respond for awhile, and he directed his murmur over his shoulder. "Scared then?"

Silence still answered until a tiny voice replied, laced with familiar humour. "Only a trickle."

-TBC-


	4. Chapter 4

Breaths held tandem with the quiet, calculated yet rushed sloshed footsteps, that interrupted darkness's hold in the sewers. Rats scattered with shrill squeaks as both Slayer and Watcher waded through the ankle-deep sewage, water as dark and dank as their surroundings.

"How can you see where we're going?" She whispered, hand trailing alongside the wall, blind guidance as she strained to follow his breathing.

"Ghar'mon's renewed strength," he replied hushed, fingers finding her jacket and giving her a quick tug, inciting her to hurry.

She stumbled again, biting back a curse as she rushed to keep up with him - with her Watcher. With her demonic Watcher. With her demonic Watcher now infused with a surge of power. Her breathing quickened as her mind flipped through possibilities of him leading her astray to dispose of her.

She was running, but she still wondered if she was running from the wrong person. She tried to relieve her hand from his grip, twisting her fingers but he held on tightly, pulling her along instead.

The idea of a demon with a renewed strength worried her, and she found herself falling back. Now with energy reserves probably capable of unleashing terrible damage, Buffy wondered about the demon's…and Giles' intent. Had Quentin been right all along?

"Giles, enough!" She stood, fists clenched and ready for battle, eyes darting through the pitch blackness that engulfed them. It was silent now, save for the water settling. Save for the hiccup like breaths from both bodies, clasped in a deep, dark, dank enclosure.

"They've picked up our scent," he whispered, emotion excluded from his words. It was a statement, one he knew she needed to hear. One that perhaps would help her differentiate friend from foe.

She swallowed her gasp, his voice closer than she had expected.

"They're only coming closer. The longer we stand here, the closer they get. Each second ticks, they are closer to slaughter." He gently slid his fingers down her arm, slipping down the leather material until he reached her wrist. Feather-light; fingertips splayed open until his hand dwarfed hers, before interlocking fingers together.

Time had slowed down, even her heart, she had noticed. That whispered moment, that renewed connection bonded them for the time being. She sniffed courage and blinked back fear, giving a nod through their visual blanket.

They continued wading through the now thigh-high water, darkness soaking them as easily as the murky sewage that penetrated through their clothing, clinging putrid stench.

"Next time, we take the high and dry road," she whispered, vomit on the verge of slipping up her esophagus.

Finally, a faint light could be seen through the cloudy shadows, as they continued pushing through the now thicker liquid. The light slowly became visible, born from a small bulb protruding from the cracked walls. The yellowing decaying light, though anemic in intensity was strong in contrast to their previous darkness and she squinted, her eyes having just adjusted to the pitch black that had engulfed them.

Grabbing hold of the rusty metal ladder, she began to climb, ignoring how the rough metal scraped at her palms, leaving them tinted with a sickening copper tone. She grimaced, feeling her wet pants cling to her legs, the stench causing her insides to churn. The ladder moved beneath his weight and she let out a shaky, startled breath. She swallowed her trembles as she felt his chest brush against her back as his long legs helped him climb faster, taking two steps at a time.

The soft clanking of their boots against the metal was interrupted by shouts and furious, quick tempo sloshing as Quentin's men gained ground.

"Almost there."

The gentle, calm reserve of his voice unsettled her and she found panic rising within. She reached the top and tried to push the cover off, hitting it with the palm of her hand when it wouldn't comply. Her eyes watered with fear and anxiety as she continued with her attempts.

He pressed his body against hers, holding balance and keeping her shielded against the ladder. Snaking his hand through the gap between steps, he aided her efforts, as they both began lifting the manhole cover off its hinges.

Giles glanced down, as Quentin's men began their climb towards their victim. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and channeled his power. "Buffy…close your eyes." He knew his whispered statement would not be adhered to, so he pressed his hand over, robbing her sight for a moment.

A bright, blinding light seemed to explode from his body.

His hand over her eyes, Buffy stopped struggling, feeling the light's heat against her skin. It was warm, and for a brief moment reminded her of a sunny beach, of comfort, of picnic baskets and red-and-white checkered table cloths. The sensation slowly dissipated as she felt his hand being removed, fingers trailing whispered caresses along her eyelashes. It was only then did she realize that the manhole cover had been blown right off, a loud thunderous clanking noise being heard a couple of moments later as the large metallic piece fell hard on the concrete.

Buffy was still visibly shaken by what had occurred, more so that Giles was being so casual about the situation. She glanced down, hearing the gasped pains of the men below, as they clawed at their eyes, almost wanting to rip them from their sockets. She couldn't witness the finer details, but she could smell a faint whisper of burnt flesh. She gripped the ladder tightly, as she continued to watch with a tormented curiosity.

"Buffy?" His mouth was close to her ear, lips lightly brushing against her sensitive skin. "W-were your hurt? Can you…um, c-can you see?"

And all at once, his stuttering brought her back to a time before when she could honestly proclaim her trust for this man. It reminded her of tea and biscuits, of libraries and researching and teasing and stern looks. It allowed her to remember the mild-mannered reserved and stuffy British librarian who had to adhere to his own calling.

She closed her eyes tightly, pressed against the warmth of his chest, pinned against the cold, rusty ladder. "Good. I'm good. Let's go."

"After you, my dear."

She whipped her head around, glanced over her shoulder, holding his gaze. His eyes lacked their usual warmth and it left her even more unsettled. She climbed the rest of the way up, happy to now be standing on firm, waterless ground. She stood observing him; perhaps to make sure that he was okay or to make sure that he wasn't planning an escape. She was still uncertain about her feelings towards him, towards this situation.

A gunshot echoed through the dank sewers and Giles gave a cry, losing his footing slightly, as he gripped the metal bars to hold himself up.

In a second, Buffy was down on her knees, grabbing hold of his arms. Digging her heels into the soft gravel, she pulled at him desperately.

He scurried up with her aid, holding on to her with a weakening grasp as he ascended the rest of the way. Once on solid ground, he collapsed, rolling over on to his back, his breath coming out as quick gasps.

Buffy looked down, startled to see the metal bars almost chewed through, seemingly as if acid had stripped away the mineral. She glanced back at her Watcher, kneeling down beside him. She reached a hand for his injured leg, unable to fight her loyalty towards him.

"No!" He interrupted her intent, grabbing her hand and moving it away from his injury. "No…n-not yet." Voice lowered, his eyes still conveyed a level of thanks. He turned his leg towards her, showing the affected area.

She stumbled back, hands to her mouth in shock. The material of his pants had disintegrated, leaving a sickening view of the bullet lodged into his flesh. The skin around had turned a violent red and it seemed to slowly spread around the bullet.

He breathed heavily as he dug his fingers in, blood squirting out of the wound. His blood hissed and fizzled as it hit the ground, creating holes in the gravel as the acid disintegrated the small rocks.

She frowned, a hand on his shoulder, much to steady him as it was to steady herself. She watched as he continued to extract the bullet with his fingers, trying to ignore his breathed cries. Something was different about this bullet -

"- it's poisonous to him," he answered her silent question. "Compacted," he grunted, eyes closed tightly and breath short, "oxygen…is deadly. Quentin's done his research," he bit back a morose chuckle. He finally managed to remove the bullet, letting it drop to the ground. It bounced, a small puddle of blood cushioning its fall. Buffy watched as the blood seemed to retract from it. It reminded her of those dishwashing liquid commercials where a drop could scatter grease.

"Good?" She asked, hooking a hand underneath his arm, helping him stand.

He limped a little, but nodded. "Good." He looked at her when she stopped him, a hand to his chest. "Buffy?"

"Are you…indestructible? Immortal?" She chose to let the uncertainty shine in her eyes.

"I am…now. Ghar'mon isn't." He cocked his head to the side, exhaling a small laugh. "I…it shall all be explained to you, once suitable shelter is found. I propose we best hurry for Quentin is a man of many resources. It won't be long until he picks up my scent." He watched as she stared at him with a mixture of defiance and an untrusting air that he had somewhat expected to occur. "I promise you, I shall not harm you nor our friends, Buffy. I…I don't know what will happen, but your safety has always been my priority, no matter who or what I am."

Taking off her jacket, she pressed it against him until he held it. She removed her t-shirt, leaving her in a rather skimpy camisole which did little to hide her sports bra underneath.

Giles raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she kneeled down in front of him. He felt her hands steady on his hips, sliding downwards until her left hand reached the area above his wound. He let out a silent breath and closed his eyes, head tilted back as he felt her warm breath against his crotch, right through the material of his pants.

She gripped his right thigh with both hands now, careful not to touch the wound. She turned her shirt inside out and twisted it into a tight rope. She wrapped it around his thigh, securing it tightly with a knot. "Immortal or not, I think it's better to avoid infection, huh?" She glanced up at him, closing her eyes briefly as she felt his fingers thread through her hair.

He glanced up, his eyes growing wide a second later as two headlights seemed to approach them at a terrific speed. He grabbed Buffy by the shoulders and threw her to the side just as the white van collided with him, sending him flying about ten feet.

"Giles!" Buffy yelled, standing up and rushing to where her Watcher now lay, in a crumpled pile. "Giles?" She refrained from touching him, remembering his warning and drawing her own conclusions when it came to his blood. Seeing that the wound had not opened again, and that there was no blood, she rolled him onto his back, checking his pulse.

"Wha-?" She withdrew her hand quickly, having felt fingers push back as she had come into contact with Giles' skin. Her mind whispered back to the moments in the sewers, where they had borrowed blind faith and hid in plain sight, nestled underneath a darkened jacket. She had felt something there - an emotion in her heart but a physical caress against her cheek.

Giles groaned, rubbing the side of his head. He immediately checked for any blood before looking up at Buffy, who was kneeling down by his side once more. He dropped his hand to her thigh, allowing himself a moment's rest as he caught his breath.

"Stay away from her!"

He craned his next, staring at three forms standing in front, silhouettes against the headlights. "Xander, for the last time, I'm _not_ a vampire." He exhaled, dropping his head back down with a thud.

Xander cleared his throat, pocketing the crucifix that he had been holding out. "I knew that."

Buffy reached for him, helping him stand. "It's good, guys." She took a breath, casting a disapproving glare at her Watcher. "Complicated…but good. At least I think."

"Or you hope," Giles supplied, eyes crinkled closed as he felt his ribs ache. It burned to breathe and he coughed, almost doubling over.

"So not helping, Demon-guy."

"Wait! So he _is_ a demon?!" Willow took a step back.

"I thought you said everything was good! You lied? Why would you lie? Are you under his spell?" Xander squeaked, taking a step behind Willow.

"Think lesser of two evils," Buffy added, helping Giles into the side of the van.

"I'd rather think of no evils," Cordelia answered, climbing into the passenger's side.

"Not that I don't want you here…because I _don't_," Buffy paused, eyes searching for the right phrasing, "…want you here, that is, but um, why _are _you here?" She looked to Xander who holding out a bottle of Holy water, poised to use it. "Why is she here?"

He quickly pocketed the bottle, offering an embarrassed smile.

"_She_ has a remote cabin up in the woods that you and your demon can hang out in," Cordelia replied in a huff. "_She_ is doing you a favour."

"Cordelia willingly doing us a favour?" Buffy glanced at the brunette. "Are you possessed too?"

"Blackmail," Willow supplied proudly. "I found out that at one time, Cordelia's parents were one welfare, for a month before they managed to win their riches back."

"Hey! That's top secret information, Rosenberg. The deal was I ask no questions, and you give no answers!" Cordelia groused, arms crossed over her chest.

"Good job, Wills! You'll be working for the CIA soon!" Buffy congratulated her friend as she helped Giles settle into his seat.

"Or being investigated _by_," Giles offered, as he rested his head against the back of the seat. "I don't suppose reminding you lot that we are now being chased by a deranged power-hungry lunatic so perhaps we should gabble less and consider our journey to this hideout?"

Cordelia wrinkled her nose as she rolled down the window. "Has anyone told you guys that you both smell like a toilet at a gas station that hasn't been cleaned in over ten years, located right beside a Taco Bell?"

"No, but your colorful description is quite touching, Cordelia." Giles didn't even bother opening his eye to cast her a glare, deciding it would fall on muted sight anyway.

"But kudos to you Buffy, to have that much blind confidence to go out with hair like _that_." Cordelia added, smiling to herself.

"Hair? What's wrong with my hair?" The Slayer touched her blonde locks, looking to her red-headed friend for support.

"It's probably full of spiders or something," Cordelia commented, glancing back at Buffy.

"Cordelia? Buffy is the _Slayer_. She fights vampires and demons of epic proportions on a daily basis. I highly doubt a tiny spider is going to scare -"

"- I think I saw something move!" Cordelia gasped, interrupting the Watcher.

A series of shrieks broke out as Buffy's infectious flails caused a domino effect within the van's confines, as all three girls whipped and jumped around, causing the vehicle to teeter from side to side.

Giles watched as his Slayer batted her hands, fingers raking through her hair as she tried to rid herself of the invisible pest; also known as paranoia, he mused.

The cries slowly died down, save for a higher pitched one that still echoed with panic. Giles silently observed all three girls, his eyes darting from his Slayer, to Willow and finally to Cordelia - all three who were now staring with a somewhat slack-jawed expression at the young man sitting in the driver's seat.

Xander calmed down, hiccupping his final shriek as he realized the mass hysteria had dissipated. Silence reigned, awkward and still as all four eyes were still resting expectantly on him. "What? I really hate spiders, okay?" He mumbled his excuse.

Any more explanations were interrupted as the passenger's side mirror cracked with a bullet's ping - the offending object still smoking as it lay nestled amidst the shards.

"Holy cheese and crackers!" Xander exclaimed, leaning over Cordelia to examine the damage. "I just got that replaced!"

"I assure you there will be a lot more damage done, and not just to your vehicle. My recommendation is to perhaps vacate the area as soon as possible." The Watcher remarked, anxiety and warning in his voice. He glanced around, letting out a tense breath as he watched Quentin's men sneak into hiding, preparing for an ambush. "As in perhaps _now_!" He added, teeth clenched.

"Um, I don't know what the rules are in demon town, but I can't just go hitting people -" Xander began to explain, pointing to a group of three people standing in front of the vehicle, guns drawn.

"Watcher, I do not want your band of children. Come with us and no one else shall suffer any pains."

Giles ignored Quentin's condition, gripping the driver's headrest and pulling himself up forward. "You bloody-well hit me! Quite easily, might I add!"

"Uh, last time I checked, you are a _demon_! I thought you were trying to kill us -" Xander pleaded his case, looking for some support.

"- let me tell you, my boy, _they _are trying to kills us all right now -"

"- because of you!" The young man yelled, putting a stop to their squabble. The only thing that was left was the slight trembling breathing coming from him, mixed in with everyone else's breath, held in synchronized fear.

"Quite right, old chap," the Watcher murmured, opening the sliding door. "I've put you lot in senseless danger - this is my battle. There's music to be faced, yes?"

Buffy's senses tingled, and with a quick exhale, she grabbed him, wrenching him in the van, just as another bullet whizzed by, narrowly missing the Watcher. They both stared at each other, Giles on his back and looking up at her wide-eyed before his eyes softened with thanks.

"Scoobies stick together, guys." She glanced up, her face resolved with temporary loyalty towards her Watcher. "Giles…there's still a Giles in there…somewhere. If we go, we go together." She swallowed relief, receiving a nod from Willow and an indifferent shrug from the bold brunette sitting in the passenger seat.

"Whatever. I just don't want to, you know, die, so maybe we should come up with a plan." Laced with quite a dose of innocent sarcasm, the rest of the group rolled their eyes, though somewhat used to her acerbic tongue.

"Rupert, I hope you realize that these are not foolish games that we are playing. You are a threat, Rupert, and it is our job - the Slayer's job, to remove this threat. Give yourself up, seek the help you need, and your friends will not get hurt."

Again, the group ignored Quentin's voice, amplified by the loudspeaker that he held to his mouth.

"Perhaps it will be wise for me to commandeer the wheel, hm?" Giles offered, already moving to switch places with Xander.

The young man glanced at Buffy in protest, but she merely raised her eyebrows, daring him to defy both Watcher and Slayer.

Another bullet crashed through the right-hand window in the back of the van, causing the occupants to duck, arms criss-crossed above their heads as glass rained down on them.

"Now!" Buffy yelled and both Giles and Xander scrambled awkwardly to exchange places. As soon as he was behind the wheel, Giles keyed the ignition and gunned the engine, coaxing the old van past its limits. Tires squealed as the van took off, the distinct sound of gravel mixed with glass crunching beneath the wheels. Gunshots now rang out in succession, pings hitting the side of the van as Giles swerved, narrowly missing the men in front of him, who were shooting with no restraints.

Once on the highway, Giles continued his speed, pushing the van as fast as it would go.

"Giles, slow down…" Buffy tried to soothe her Watcher, feeling his anxiety and fear.

"They've got faster and better cars, Buffy," he mentioned, glancing in the rear-view mirror. "Bloody pillocks!" He exclaimed, hitting the steering wheel as he spotted their vehicle quite hot on their trail. "Black SUV, behind us," he clarified.

Another shot rang and everyone hunched, ducking behind the seats as the other back window exploded, shards crinkling inside the van.

"A cop! Giles, pull over! The cop will save us!" Xander leaned forward, pointing ahead where a cop car sat visibly, a radar aimed at the road.

"Good thinking, Xander!" Buffy cheered her friend before placing a hand on Giles' shoulder. "Pull over, Giles! Quentin'll be really stupid to keep shooting at us with a cop on our side!"

In the moment, Giles nodded and pulled over, slowing down quite abruptly, stopping a click or two away from the car. Lights began to flash and a siren blared as the cop car rolled down from the small grassy knoll on which it has been perched, and rolled to a stop behind their beaten up van.

The group sighed as they watched Quentin's SUV continue by them. Giles made a mental note of the license plate, hoping that the police would be able to help them.

"Right, so um, did anyone else think this through?" Cordelia asked, ignoring the collective sigh.

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked, her patience wearing thin as she spied the police officer get out of his vehicle.

She continued, still oblivious to Buffy's clipped response. "Well maybe it's just me, but doesn't it seem strange that a beat-up half-naked old guy is driving a broken down, bullet-holed van with a bunch of high school kids?"

There was utter silence in the car: no one moved, breathed nor blinked.

"Bloody hell," was the only noise, whispered by the Watcher has he crossed his arms over the steering wheel, laying his forehead in despair.

Giles eyes met Buffy's in the rear view mirror as the police officer rapped the end of his flashlight against the window before shining it in.

--TBC--


End file.
